To Never Be The Same
by ElectricIndigoAndAllThatsDead
Summary: You'd think it'd just be a wolf or death. That's it. None of this "something in between" crap. It happened with Lydia, and she ended up being mentally enslaved by a psychopath, and it happened with Jackson, and he, well, same thing. What about now? What's going to happen to him? Oh, why couldn't it just be death? After S3E12; slow buildup, but with twist to shake up plot.
1. PROLOGUE

**[A/N: This is a fanfiction based off of the series "Teen Wolf". I'll be honest, this isn't going to be a polis on ships, but, if I had to, I'd say this would be an eventual Stydia, a bromance Scciles, maybe with some Sterek banter here and there, as well as a couple of other possible ships, such as Allissac or Scottison or even some Melissa/Sheriff in some ways, too. This will pick up after the midseason finale of S3, and will involve the kitsunes—a few OC's, but mainly centering on the villainess so far—with a couple of personal twists here and there. There will be a huge shocker I'm planning, but I'm trying my hardest for there to be a buildup, which, I'm hoping, will turn the tables altogether. I am only requesting that you, fellow reader, be patient with me as you will not be sorry. Expect this to have angst, drama—fine, maybe a LITTLE romance—and action. Critiques/Criticism welcome—this is my first fic, so I would more than appreciate any pointers to help my writing. I apologize for any short chapters in the beginning, but they'll get longer and more detailed later on. All rights to MTV. Hope you enjoy!]**

She was getting her shoes wet.

As she ran, her heels were being kicked about, sloshing in the river of red at her feet.

But she didn't care; all she could focus on was the chill in the air, the enormous force of wind that was chasing her down this dark, empty hall.

She couldn't see a thing, but this power, this strange power was pushing her—edging her on, actually—to something.

Something horrible. Something that would leave a stench any wolf or person could recognize, but one she didn't want to. But she had to; the force wanted her to. And, whatever it was, the more it led her involuntarily on, the more her stomach churned.

She didn't want to see what she was running to; she wanted for her heels to stop getting wet, for the chill to go away. She just wanted to be home.

* * *

Lydia Martin's eyes snapped open, her head risen along with them from her pink embroidered pillow. It was like her wish had come true. She was home, in her bed and under her heavily layered comforters, with the half-moon out of her window and crickets chirping their ritual calls in what was the middle of their night.

But that wasn't the end.

Turning slowly, Lydia found her eyes fixated on her alarm clock, which read to be at "12:00". It wasn't just the middle of the night; it was exactly midnight.

Turning back, Lydia was now looking straight ahead. And, with a breath taken in, the teenage banshee began to wail.


	2. CHAPTER 1--Thirteen Days Later

It was 6:15, right on time for the alarm to sound its dutiful buzz for Scott McCall to set to reset as he got up and stretched his back for the morning. Shirtless and eyes half-open, the tan-complexioned youth swung his legs from off the covers and stood up, yawning as he walked to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, turning the faucet on and bringing it up to spritz his cheeks with the cold. It was all he needed, since he had taken a shower already the night before. It also gave Isaac Lahey the bathroom in the morning, since his roommate preferred so. The two respected each other, not only as a beta and an alpha caring and looking out for each other, but also as a couple of friends who liked to hang out after school. Like they were normal.

Out of the room next door, a pale-skinned brunet stepped out, his short curls messier than usual from his bedhead, with a towel hanging from over his shoulder. Normal. It was hard to remember the last time the werewolf could use that word when describing his own life. Usually, before his mind could even embrace the relaxation of the sun in the morning, one of those pesky little pings of stress would pop in, reminding Scott of the Durach still out there offering human lives by crucifixion to whatever sick god who would accept them, or the kanima going on a serial rampage at the whim of a revenge-consumed teenager—or the fact that this all had started because one psychopath of an uncle decided that he needed a pack to wage war against a family of hunters who burned his own family to the ground [really, it was only the aunt who bore no soul for mercy, but that guy long stopped caring about the little details by then]. But, now, Scott felt fine and content. Their parents were back, and it was all over. Now, there was nothing to worry about.

Well, actually, there was. When their parents were gone, there were only three he knew were missing, but, when they came back, an extra had decided to hop along that bandwagon to make it four:

Sheriff Stilinski,

Mr. Argent,

Mrs. McCall,

AND Mr. McCall.

Dad.

Isaac must've taken notice of Scott's furrowed eyebrows of thought and frown of dread, because he'd been trying to get his friend's attention for the past few minutes with calls to him. Giving up, he put his fingers in Scott's line of sight and snapped them with a sharp, "Scott!"

"Hm? What?" Scott's tone was casual and unworried, but his immediate piercing gaze to Isaac within the second was startling, and Isaac jumped.

"I said, 'Do you need to take a shower first?'" Isaac repeated, this time enunciating more slowly after the recoil of his surprise. "'Cause I can wait; I just need to brush first."

"Oh, no," Scott shook his head, giving a friendly smile. "You can go. I already took a shower last night." Taking his toothbrush and a bottle of toothpaste, he wasted no more time in heading out, "I'll just take the bathroom downstairs."

"Okay, cool," Isaac nodded, walking into the bathroom and hanging the towel on the nearest rod. "Thanks. Oh, by the way!"

Scott turned back to Isaac, already halfway down the stairs but still looking up at the head poking out of the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Derek called last night, while you were out with Stiles to get the Jeep from the auto repair shop," Isaac reported, his voice still light but with more serious eyes, "He said he found Jennifer."

Scott's eyes widened. "Really?"

It had been thirteen days since they'd last seen the Durach. Derek had insisted that they still go in pursuit after her, but they all knew she wouldn't be much of a worry. Or so they'd let themselves to think.

"What happened? Is she still alive?"

Isaac shook his head. "No, by the time Derek got there, Jennifer—or wasn't her real name 'Julia', or just, I don't know, but—anyway, she was already dead." Isaac stared at the floor with a confused expression, as if the puzzle he'd been pondering over could be solved in the wood. "She was there, at the Nematode, Julia." He looked back up to Scott. "Derek thinks that she had tried _crawling_—from the farmhouse, _all the way_—over there to try to ask for more power again or something, but…" The teenager sighed, biting his lip uneasily.

Scott couldn't take the stalls anymore. "What is it, Isaac?"

He asked, impatience and concern rising in his voice as he incidentally hopped up two of the steps to get closer to hear.

Isaac sighed again. "She was already dead, Scott. But, get this: it wasn't by the number done to her by you and Deucalion back there; Derek said that there was another mark made on her, one that, judging by the corpse, was the one that killed her."

Isaac swallowed then, as if the next three words he were about to say would be the hardest of all.

"By a wolf."

* * *

"By a wolf?"

This time, it wasn't Isaac or Scott's voice who had said it, but Stiles', who was at the moment walking by Scott's side as they entered the Beacon Hills High School.

Scott nodded. "Yes, that's what Isaac said Derek saw on Julia." Both of the boys' tones were kept at a hush compared to the crowds of the students around them, as if there would be a spy amidst them, and, if word got out, it would all be over.

"Was it Deucalion?" Stiles asked, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth on one of his backpack straps.

"No," Scott shook his head. "It wouldn't be him. He would have no reason to go after her again. Besides, we gave him a second chance; you'd think he'd be wise enough not to blow it."

"Right," Stiles said, though with just the softest hint of not being entirely convinced. "Kali's dead, isn't she?"

"Yeah, Julia spared not even a second in doing that," Scott nodded in affirmation. "At least, that's what Lydia said. That, and she tried to kill Aiden."

"Speaking of which…" Stiles' eyes trailed to the twin alphas, both who appeared to be conversing with a couple of their lacrosse teammates. Scott followed his line of gaze, and, questioningly, glanced at Stiles, who nodded back in confirming the objects of his suspicion, but didn't take his eyes off them until a few moments later.

"You really think…?"

"Come on, Scott; you think that after stopping one insane Druid and a pack of kill-happy Alphas—of which they were also _a part of_, once upon a time—that we should suddenly be up for a group hug with the twin Hulk monsters over there?"

* * *

"Look, I get it," Scott's tongue clicked with a wince, still thoughtful as he set down his bag beside his chair, Stiles taking his usual seat behind him. "Motive, the Durach tried to kill them; Means: werewolf-style; Opportunity: after we all went home; but do you seriously think that their anger would reach that high of a tipping point to go on a manhunt _after_ it was all over?"

Stiles sighed, conceding, "Fine, I see your point; maybe Ethan and Aiden didn't kill Julia, but I'd still watch out for them. Sorry, Scotty, but we can't all of a sudden let 'bygones be bygones' this time around."

"Okay," it was now Scott who considered his mutual-brother's words. "I know; we still have to be careful around them."

* * *

Just a minute or so behind, Allison Argent was walking into class, books clutched to her chest, with Lydia, setting her bookbag at the front row three desks from the right with her classmate next to her.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Allison questioned, wearing a happy smile—relieved, even, considering it still felt like everything with the Durach and Deucalion ended only yesterday—but with concern rising in her soft tone.

It was the third time the huntress had asked this, though it didn't seem like she was given much reason to do so. From the moment Lydia had greeted her on her way to school, her best friend had been chatting with her like normal, from the cutest jock who'd made that game-winning goal to a special discount sale at her favorite salon if she'd bring a plus-one, and you'd think Allison would be thinking the same.

But, there was still something, something in her eyes, trying to cower and hide inside those big brown irises, as if Lydia _wanted_ to fill their conversation with nothing but classic teenage girl antics, so that the famed-name Argent wouldn't get the chance to ask if she was _all right_.

Lydia knew she shouldn't lie.

Since the events that had occurred thirteen days prior, she'd made it more of a point to visit Dr. Deaton after school and the guidance counselor, Ms. Morrell, at least once a day for more on the lore behind her kind, now that she knew who she was, and how to live with it and to utilize it in times of need. It was the start of a habit, and, most certainly, she hadn't been getting too far after what wasn't even two weeks, but she'd hoped it'd continue.

But this was something different. This was someone _showing_ her something, an actual vision, _leading_ her somewhere. That was what the force was, she decided. She'd already felt it once before with Peter, so she knew the signs. But it still wasn't precisely the same. It was something stronger. Something, for the time being, seeming invisible.

"Allison," Lydia gave her fake smile and her small shrug and shake of her head, the kind of way, Allison thought, when you'd be looking at an innocent puppy and trying to tell it "no" without making it sound bad and full of pity, without much success. "Are you going to continue asking me that?"

Allison paused for a beat, keeping up the gleeful frame of her face but with her eyes much more cold; if they were knives, they'd be tracing Lydia's face, circling her eyelids, especially, while Lydia froze and tucked her fear behind a closed door. That was what it felt like to her.

For Lydia, it felt like decades having to face this gaze—not a glare, strangely, she wondered if it was an old trick passed down through the Argent bloodline—before Allison blinked, and her eyes seemed to revert back to normal, backing off. "Right," The brunette nodded, clicking her pen and opening up her notebook to a clean page. "Sorry."

* * *

Then, cutting off both the boys and girls' separate conversations, the bell rang, and the class was brought to a silence, ready to start their 40 minutes of Econ.

**[A/N: And that's the first chapter! Like I said before, there is a buildup, so it might be a bit slow. I'm hoping to cover all of my bases here with Peter, and post-Deucalion/with Ethan and Aiden. No kitsunes yet, but you may expect a couple soon. Again, here's a thank you to you, fellow reader, for being patient in the future. Critiques/Criticism welcome. Copyright MTV.]**


End file.
